


The Route of Death

by temxyz



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Danger and sharp weapons, Magicky stuff too, Other, Valdemar Feels Things (tm)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21619480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temxyz/pseuds/temxyz
Summary: A route fic for Quaestor Valdemar. Deals. Secrets. Journeys. Rediscovering love. Reformation... or reversion?
Relationships: Valdemar (The Arcana)/Reader, Valdemar (The Arcana)/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 78





	1. Prologue

Love at first sight. 

You didn’t believe in it. 

You still didn’t when you arrived at the palace, at the request of none other than the Countess Nadia. 

You’d gone over it in your head millions of times; it was overused, and it was impossible, just to look at someone you’ve never seen before and decide you love them. It’s never happened to you. It’s never made sense. 

It still didn’t m when you walked into the salon, greeted by the presence of five beings.  
The small Volta, the stout Vulgora, anxious Vlastomil, tasteful Valerius...  
Then there they were. 

They sat in the chair beside the window. Sunlight illuminated their tall, thin form. They looked with anticipation at you, fingers steepled, left leg crossed over the right.  
Something shone deep within their bright red eyes, behind the oddly slitted pupils and glassy expression. It was hard to read them right then. 

You still didn’t feel it. But somehow, deep within the depths of your being... You knew there was something drawing you to them. 

They looked at you. 

You looked back. 

But, you took a seat on the other side of the room and greeted the Countess. 

And so it begun.


	2. VI- The Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKOK this chapter is long as HELL and I’m SO SORRY. I can promise further chapters will NOT take this long in the future, and will not have as many words. Love y’all

You aren’t sure how long you’d been in this... void. 

With your eyes closed, all you can see is red. A hazy, foggy red, melding into the pitch black of your vision.   
It’s hard to tell just how much time has passed, but if there is one thing you know for sure, it’s that this is not the bed Portia had shown you to. 

When you open your eyes, you’re greeted with a ring of lights above you. An apparition, maybe. Your time with Asra hadn’t been completely devoid of them. But the more your eyes come to focus, you start to realize that what’s above your head is not a ghostly figure; rather, a candlelit chandelier. 

It casts a dim orange glow across the ceiling, and seemingly the rest of the room, but you can’t move your head to see. In fact, you can’t move anything at all. You can only lie there for what seems like moments, but could be hours, a sense of foreboding and dread weighing in your chest. 

The room is made out of tightly mortared brick, but it feels... alive in a way. Like it’s pulsating with some kind of rhythm. It hums from its very depths, a deep droning in your ears. It’s far more deafening than the silence you’re so unused to. 

A smooth voice fills your ears, distorted yet somehow clear. 

“Did you think you were smart, MC?” The entity’s voice sends a chill down your spine, but it’s respite from the dull humming of the room around you. You can’t move to face the person. Something about their voice is cold, but with a hint of... fondness. You’ve heard this voice before, but where, you can’t quite distinguish. 

You try to speak, opening your mouth, but no noise escapes your throat. Even if you could move your muscles, it’s apparent you wouldn’t be able to even then. The sensation of thick leather restraints on your wrists and ankles makes it hard not to give in to anxiety. 

You can hear tools clinking together off to your side. Then the sound of gloves being pulled over skin. You flinch at it, closing your eyes tight for a moment. 

“You’re far too inquisitive,” The voice comes again. “Haven’t you ever heard that saying? ‘Curiosity killed the cat?’” 

Once again, you can’t answer. At least, not coherently. When you try to speak, your voice just comes out a muffled gurgle as if you were underwater. 

A laugh comes from the entity, cold and harsh. It continues for a tiny bit before it slows into a chuckle. 

“Pathetic,” They breathe. Once again, the sound of tools comes from your side. You see the scalpel first, hovering over your restrained body. You try and move- but you can’t. You can’t do anything. Tears of frustration start to gather in your eyes. 

“Now, now. Let’s not get too sad.” With that, they leaned over you... and you were met with a pair of piercing red eyes. “Just lie down and accept your fate.” 

You jolt awake in your bed, panting, beads of sweat gathered on your forehead and chest. You find yourself entangled in the silken sheets of your bed. They are now far too damp for your liking, especially being twisted around your legs in knots. It’s a struggle to get them untied before you can finally move freely again. 

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed and peer out the window. You’d learned from Asra how to tell the time with the sky; a lesson given long ago, but not too long that you don’t remember. The position of the moon overhead tells you all you need to know. It's no later than one in the morning. 

You look back towards your sheets and give them a wistful look. However, startled awake, you are now very... revitalized. Judging by the pace of your heartbeat you wouldn’t be going back to sleep. 

As much as the room is beautiful, there isn’t much to do within it. Even if there was something to pass the time, Dr. Devorak’s case was still the reason you were called to the palace. To prove his innocence... or guilt... you’d have to research. Might as well get a head start for the morning. 

The door to your room opens silently aside from a tiny click from the latch. The halls are dark, and the air warm and humid. If not for the faint flickering of the few torches that hadn’t gone out on the wall, the entire area would have been plunged into pitch darkness, even when the Vesuvian moon casts its glow. 

You linger in the doorway a moment. Something about the place feels... off. Not exactly the same sensation you’d felt when in Lucio’s wing; rather, a bit less suffocating. Nonetheless, it keeps you peering down the hall in either way. 

Within the silence, you begin to hear the clicking of boots echoing off the marble walls. Someone is approaching, quickly, and the sensation follows. Startled, you dip back behind your door and shut it quietly, just as the clicking gets closer than ever, then fades away again in only a moment. 

They’ve passed. 

You open your door once again, just quick enough to see the faintest glimpse of a white coattail disappearing behind the corner. 

You step out into the hall, and peer one last time up at the walls. Every torch had now gone out. Ghostly wisps of smoke are the only signs they were ever lit. 

You close the door behind you, and it’s just you and your visitor. Your feet pad gently on the cold tile floor as you follow the figure’s path. Your breath leaves you shakily, and your heart drums steadily in your chest. 

Time seems to slow as you approach the corner. Mere moments turn into what feels like a lifetime. A short lifetime, perhaps, as you soon come to reach it, resting your hands on the wall and peering around it. Your eyes widen and you suppress a small gasp. With the clicking of their heels, none other than Quaestor Valdemar walks briskly down the hall. Torches extinguish themselves the moment they get close. It’s almost as if the light is afraid to touch them. 

You know you should stay away. You want that more than anything, but you keep pulling yourself to follow. Your legs seem to move of their own accord. 

Your anxiety eases with every corner they turn, seemingly unaware of your presence. Occasionally, you wonder what might have happened, if you’d chosen to walk to the library rather than follow their path. It quickly becomes apparent that it wouldn’t have mattered, though, when Valdemar slows their pace in front of the grand library door. 

It’s when they stop in front of it, eyes flickering over every jewel embedded in its surface that you realize they intend to go in. 

They survey the locks, tilting their head to either side. The way they run their thin, gloved fingers over all of the locks, so delicately yet coldly, sends a chill down your spine. You’re able to suppress a shuddering breath, but not the slight movements of your body. 

All at once, Valdemar freezes with their hand on a lock. You follow suit. It’s almost impossible they could have seen you; you’re hidden behind the nearest corner, more than ten feet from them and the library door. 

You can feel a certain energy ripple through the air. It searches through the halls at a blinding speed, grazing every corner and every object within seconds. You remain rigid in your place with fear, until the ripple reaches you. 

All at once, it stops. 

And Valdemar begins moving once more. 

You watch as the door unlatches in front of Valdemar with nothing but a wave of their hand, and they step inside. The door closes softly behind them, neglecting to latch back into place. 

You’re frozen behind the wall for a few more moments, watching in disbelief. It had taken Portia a few minutes to unlock all of them, and they’ve done it in a mere second.   
You’d underestimated them. 

You creep toward the door, footsteps light and slow. Your skin prickles up into bumps on your arms, and the hair on the back of your neck begins to stand on end. Your fingers curl gently on the cold metal of the door’s handles. You’re not even sure you should open it. 

Maybe you will. 

Maybe not. 

Your mind races as fast as your heart. It pounds at your ribs, practically leaping out of your chest. Is this... fear? Yes. Fear, towards someone who had seemed perfectly friendly not even a full day ago. Maybe it’s something about the atmosphere. Or maybe nighttime is when they show their true colors. 

Whatever it is, you’re sure Valdemar is waiting behind that door, patiently eyeing the locks and waiting to pounce. 

You take a deep breath, place your hands on the door handles, and wrench it open. The doors swing to either side, and knock into the walls, but the library is silent and motionless. 

...Nobody is inside. 

Bewilderment overpowers your relief. You’d followed Valdemar here not five minutes ago... and they’re gone. They couldn’t have taken any other exits... could they? Your eyes flicker around the entire room. Specks of dust float idly through the air, illuminated by the serene glow of the moon. It’s almost as if nobody had even entered. 

Your heart rate slows as you wander around the library a moment, gazing up at the thousands of books neatly filed into the towering shelves. You scan from left to right, eyes falling on the stained glass window. It filters moonlight into the room and casts it onto the floor in brilliant colors. 

Only a tiny bit drapes itself lazily over the corner of the desk tucked into the corner, covered in papers fervently scribbled on by Julian. 

With a deep breath, you run your fingers over the wooden desk. It tingles with the faintest trace of magic under your palms. You close your eyes, concentrating on the sensation, and search for the item on the desk that is calling you. 

The longer you search, the more it’s apparent that the magic reaching out to you isn’t originating from the desk. Your eyes open slowly, and follow the whispers pulling you closer. 

Tucked into a leather-bound book, is a small square of paper. All at once, your heart leaps with excitement; that is the item that had been calling to you. You gently slide the tome out of the bookshelf, and brush dust off of the cover. In large golden lettering, it reads: “ALCHEMY: VOLUME IV.” 

Your fingers quickly find the page that the paper is sticking out of. When you open the book, you’re greeted with brittle pages that are yellowed with age. It’s open to an excerpt on transmutation… and the dire consequences of it. 

The paper is facing upside-down to you, with “Zadith” scrawled on it. There seems to be a date next to it as well, but it’s blotted out in so much ink that it’s impossible to read. 

The paper feels gritty in your hands, and the scent of age floods the air around you when you pick it up.   
You turn it over carefully. Your fingertips part from its surface, and on the old paper is… a photo. Someone stands in the frame, leaning slightly to the side. 

It’s hard to tell just what color some details are, due to the photo’s sepia tone. From what you can tell, neck-length, dark brown curls fall around their face, one side swept behind their ear. They wear a white button-down shirt open just enough to see the slightest glimpse of collarbone.   
From the shirt’s color you can tell their skin has a warm, tanned tone.   
The expression on their face is solemn, from the way their brows knit to how the corners of their mouth turn downward.   
Their eyes are almond shaped, yet are wide open at the subject. Even with the true colors lost to age, you still find the slightest hint of deep red in their irises. 

You know for a fact that you have never seen this person before. It would be impossible to anyway; the photo’s age could be greater than your own. But somehow, deep within your mind, there’s a nagging feeling that the features of this person are all too familiar. 

You keep it gripped gently in your hand when you put the book back on its shelf. You wander back to Julian’s desk, and you begin to comb through the writings. 

Your heart has finally slowed.

“Curious, are we?” 

You jump at the voice suddenly piercing the silence, and whip around. You freeze immediately when you see what you’re met with; piercing red eyes. The exact pair you’d seen in your dream. 

You hadn’t felt anything, hadn’t heard anything. But you’re now face to face with Valdemar, peering up into their crimson irises, unable to look away. 

Valdemar tilts their head upward, and peers down at you over their nose.

“I’m going to be very blunt. Whatever your answer is, tell me quickly.” 

The rest of your body is still stiff as stone, but you nod quickly, wide-eyed and heart pounding in your chest. 

The quaestor’s eyes narrow at you, eyes now cold and calculating. “You were following me. Weren’t you?” 

You swallow sheerly out of nerves, and shake your head quickly in denial. 

“I-I didn’t notice I was,” You choke out breathlessly. 

“That’s an awfully weak excuse.” Valdemar’s hands fall from behind their back and rest at their sides. You begin to grow lightheaded with panic when they move even closer, backing you up until you bump painfully against the desk.   
With a sudden lurch of their body and a yelp from your own throat, you’re laid flat on the desk, and they’re hunched over you with their fingers tightly curled around your wrist. 

They lean in so close that your nose almost touches theirs. 

“Do you understand the gravity of this situation?” Valdemar’s voice is low, and laced with venom. “Do you understand what you could have seen, had you gone any closer?” 

You try your best to swallow the lump in your throat, heart pounding rapidly.   
“Awful things?” 

Valdemar lets out a hiss of air. “‘Awful’ doesn’t even begin to describe it. ‘Awful’ is not the word for something no human being has ever survived. If you do not wish to disappear off the face of the earth, listen to what I have to say.” 

Valdemar leans even closer, and their voice lowers to a whisper. 

“Back away, and you’ll be spared. But if I see you following me once more it will not end as it did tonight. Am I understood?” 

Your spine tingles with sudden fear at the threat. You nod quickly, not wanting to risk depriving Valdemar of an answer. 

Valdemar starts to back off from you once you answer. Your heart begins to slow, and relaxation washes over you in waves- until they freeze abruptly. Valdemar’s brows soften, and their eyes lock on the old photo. It’s now slightly creased, but overall undamaged and still in the hand they’re not gripping. 

Their hand suddenly drops from your wrist, and you relish in the sudden rush of blood to your fingers. Then you curse the echoes of pain. 

“Where did you get this?” Valdemar’s voice is softer this time. Still, the photo is the focus of their attention. You take the moment to swallow your nerves and readjust your position. 

“I-I found it in one of the books. Alchemy, volume four.”   
After a moment of staring down at you, Valdemar abruptly snatches the photo from your hand, and backs away slowly. You rise with just as much hesitation. 

From your position behind Valdemar, you can still see the hauntingly familiar features of the brown-haired person. You’re not sure what is beyond the surface, but from the way they study it diligently you could have mistaken it as recognition. 

“Did you know them?” You ask meekly. The figure’s dark eyes still stare deeply into your soul.

Valdemar doesn’t say anything for a good while, before shaking their head slowly. 

“They’re familiar.” Valdemar abruptly hands it back to you. You feel slightly foolish that you’d flinched at their movement. 

They brush their gloves of any dust from it and continue. “However, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen them. Just as you will pretend that you have not seen me.” 

Your heart feels like shards of ice have embedded themselves inside of it. 

“What do you mean?” 

Valdemar’s lips turn upward into a sly grin.   
“To put it simply, I enjoy keeping my secrets. It doesn’t matter what I have to do to keep them in the dark. 

“But,” Valdemar continues, brushing dust from their gloves, “I cannot stand to risk anything. If you are the type to stick your nose in places you shouldn’t, MC, I suppose it’s better to have you under my wing than going behind my back.” 

Suspicion begins to grow in your chest. You give them a dubious look from the side. “What could you teach me?” 

“Medicine. Self-defense. Could help rid you of your naivety.”

Your eyes widen. “Excuse me? What made you think I want this?” You move to walk away, but once more Valdemar slams their hands down onto the desk and traps you there. 

“There’s always one more alternative,” Valdemar states calmly. 

“Just tell me!” You spit, anger rising to a boil. 

Valdemar tilts their head to the side. “You could always refuse, and mysteriously go missing. That is, until guards find your body in the moat.” 

“Is that a threat?!” 

“That’s for you to decide.” Valdemar smiles to themself, their fingertips absentmindedly tracing down their right forearm. “I can teach you everything you need to know, and more. Just take my hand.” 

They reach the same arm out to you. Their palm is open, bony fingers outstretched in anticipation. 

You don’t take it yet. Instead, your hand runs through your hair with stress. As much as you hated this, and maybe even them, it wasn’t as if you had much choice.   
Become their pupil… or, supposedly, die. You’d rather take the former.   
You slip the photo in your pocket, put on a brave face, and take their hand. 

Your hand firmly grips theirs, and all at once tendrils of shadow shoot out from Valdemar’s glove. They wrap tightly around both of your forearms, and grow tighter by the second. A burning cold surrounds them and it grows stronger by the second, becoming overwhelming very quickly. 

Then suddenly, the tendrils disappear into your arms. You pull away from Valdemar immediately, clutching your freezing skin. You catch a glimpse of black shooting through your veins before the cold starts to disappear. 

“What the hell was that?” You whisper to yourself. But deep down, you already know. 

You’ve made a deal with a demon.


End file.
